


To Chase The Sun

by darlingdisastrous



Category: The Lost Boys (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Cunnilingus, F/M, Human/Vampire Relationship, Loss of Virginity, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:42:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29027403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingdisastrous/pseuds/darlingdisastrous
Summary: new in santa carla for the season, you have a run-in with the city’s notorious scoundrel; however, instead of heading the warnings, you’re entranced by him, leading you down a rabbit hole of sin and ruin.
Relationships: Dwayne (Lost Boys)/Reader, Dwayne (Lost Boys)/You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

There are three important moments in a woman’s life: coming out, marriage, and giving birth.

For your coming out, Mama would not stand for sending you to some inferior town. Though your family wasn’t extremely rich, and your dowry was mediocre, Mama insisted that you would attend the season at the great city of Santa Carla.

You’d come of age a few months prior and ever since then, Mama had been meticulously plotting every aspect of the season. Luckily, Father had contacts in Santa Carla which made travel and lodging much easier.

A woman by the name of Mrs. Hedgepeth was the widow of one of Father’s old friends. She handled most of the affairs, such as securing you a Town House for the season, and volunteered her daughter to be your guide through the turbulent waters of coming out.

You did not arrive in Santa Carla until the afternoon. By that time, much of the day had passed so any plans to familiarize yourself with the town were postponed until the morrow. However, you were not too late to dine with Mrs. Hedgepeth and her daughters, an event that had been planned months in advance, so you changed out of your soiled travel clothes and into something more appropriate.

Dinner passed uneventfully. The eldest daughter, Eliza Hedgepeth, was the closest to you in age and took to you well enough. She was sociable and well-mannered, throwing very few jibs your way. Her attitude was not unexpected. Eliza was not yet married, either, so she would also be participating in this year’s season which instantly pitted you against one another.

You didn’t let it bother you.

After dinner was completed, Eliza walked you to the door, your parents trailing behind.

“Will I see you at the tea room in the morning?”

“I rarely get up with the sun,” said Eliza. “Midday will be best. That’s when all the most notable women in Society lunch. It will be good for you to socialize and…” She trails off, her focus no longer on you.

You follow her line of sight. Across the street, four figures sit atop four powerful horses. Their laughter carries. It’s difficult to make out their features in the low lamplight; however, you can see well enough to know they’re street punks. They wear tattered clothes, weather-worn hats, and long, dusty coats.

One of them happens directly under the street lamp and your breath catches. You swear he heard you because his head snaps in your direction, not a moment after. He’s … _beautiful_. 

“Shield your eyes lest evil tempts you.”

“Beg pardon?” You turn back to Eliza. ”What’s the matter?”

“That filth,” she nods sharply in their direction, “has sullied these streets for far too long. Grifters, the lot of them. No good scoundrels.” She motions for you to come closer. “ _They have ruined a half dozen girls that we are aware of. They’ve acquired quite the reputation, enough so that being in the same vicinity is death to a good woman’s character_.”

You spare another glance. They’re still there, having abandoned their horses in favor of … watching. It’s unnerving. They pass a cigarette between them, and though you cannot see their faces, you know they’re watching. Their stare burns into you. Eliza feels it too because she stands a little straighter, narrowing her eyes.

Your gaze lingers on the tall, dark stranger a moment longer before you ask. “How do you know so much?”

Reproach flashes across her face. Her cheeks turn red. “Some are caught and outed. Other times … women talk.” She inhales sharply and pats your shoulder. “You best be on your way, my dear. I will see you in the morning.”

And with that, the conversation was over.

The tea room is a-buzz with light conversation and tittering laughter. Eliza lead you by the arm, politely nodded to certain distinguished-looking women as you passed before parking the two of you at a table near the window.

“It seems so different during the day,” you comment.

Eliza follows your stare out onto the street. The roads are packed 

It was not long into your luncheon that you were approached by three women around your age, who were apparently great friends of Eliza. They took residence at your table. Introductions were made briefly. None of the girls seem particularly interested in making a good impression, rather, they are scoping out the competition.

“This here is the darling Y/N L/N, a family friend from my fathers’ side,” Eliza introduced. “She and her family will be joining us for the season. Her first.”

“How thrilling,” said the one closest to you—Jane. “Tell me, how are you finding town?”

“I haven’t seen much of it,” you admit, “I only arrived yesterday evening and hadn’t much time to explore. From what I’ve seen today, I can say with certainty that I’m overwhelmed. There is so much to do, I’m certain I won’t have seen it all by the time the season’s out.”

“I adore the country,” said Mary. “It’s so … _tranquil_. Must be quite the change for you.”

There’s a biting edge to her tone that takes you aback. However, her visage is sweet so you assume you’re interpreting her wrong. “Yes. Yes, it is. I’m not used to so many people.”

“Must be quite the culture shock. Is this your first time riding in an automobile?”

Now, that was a jab. You glower. You might not have grown up in the city like they, but you were not as ignorant as they believed.

“Not by a mile.” You pick up your tea and sip it thoughtfully. “Although, in the country, we don’t have such colorful characters, resulting in far less scandal.”

This shuts them up. There was a look exchanged among them, the other girl (who you knew shared a name with one of them but you couldn’t remember which) choked mid-drink.

Eliza shot you a look but laughed. “Yes. Darling Y/N and I spotted the rabble last night. Her first brush with danger, isn’t that right?”

“They didn’t look very dangerous,” you note. Rough around the edges, but not dangerous.

“Oh, but _they_ _are_ ,” said Mary. “I wouldn’t except a country girl such as yourself to understand. They have insulted ample women around these parts that fathers are known to shoot on sight.”

“Gracious!” You touch your mouth. “Without provocation?”

Jane raised her eyebrows. “They’ve _provoked_ enough ladies around these parts to make it common practice. Besides, they’re scum. Their mere presence in town is a stain.”

“Then why not … run them out?” You lean in close, lowering your voice, “Surely if they’re as bad as you say…”

“Many have tried but it never sticks.”

The table grows quiet. There is an uncomfortable air encircling the table. You take another sip, eyeing each of the girls. There was something they weren’t telling you. Be it shame locking their tongues or an inflated sense of propriety. 

Eliza cleared her throat. “Are you going to Mrs. Woodson’s ball the evening after next?”

The other Jane-or-Mary speaks up, “Oh, yes. You will all be _green_ with envy when you see it…”

Mama twisted another strand of hair back and pinned it in place. “You look positively radiant, darling. I will be miffed if you don’t mesmerize every man at the ball tonight.”

“We can only hope.”

Because that was what tonight was: marriage hunting. Finding a potential suitor, a wealthy husband who could take care of you well into the future.

She made her finishing touches then smoothed her hands across your dress. It was a light blue fabric that complimented your skin tone gorgeously. Your hair was pinned in the latest fashion.

Nellie, the maid, came over with your gloves and helped you put them on. For the finishing touch, she fastened a dainty necklace around your neck and a beautiful, diamond bracelet around your wrist.

“A vision,” said Nellie.

“I know you will make us proud.” Downstairs, the grandfather clock chimed. Mama straightened up. “Come, we must be off.”

By the time you made it to the car, dusk had overtaken the sky and anticipation hung in the air.

The woman who hosted the evening’s ball, Mrs. Woodson, was a cousin to the mayor. Her home was large and reflected wealth. There was already a good deal of people arrived.

Anxiously, you picked at your dress. So many people … This was your first ball after being introduced into Society which was a huge step in any woman’s life.

You walked behind Mama and Father, taking note of the surroundings and illustrious company you’d be keeping this evening. You greeted the host and entered the festivities. Eliza found you at once (although, unfortunately, kept company with the three girls you’d met at the tea room). Tonight, pleasantries were kept to a minimum. It was not the time to make nice, you were here to procure a husband, which made every eligible you woman in the room with you your enemy.

A young gentleman by the name of Alfred Emerson was the first to ask you to dance. He was the heir of a business tycoon and owned a substantial amount of land of his own.

The next, you couldn’t remember his name, had ties to English nobility, and was considered a baron or lord or something. He had practiced manners but an all-around bland personality.

One after another, you talked with potential suitors. Many of them you danced with, but some decided you were not worth their time and moved on to another young lady.

You sought an escape. You managed to slip away from your parents and Eliza long enough to wander out into the gardens. It’s not that you wanted to be without a chaperone, _per_ _se_ , but you needed a break. It was overwhelming. Just a moment to yourself to catch your breath.

You leaned against the wooden railing and sighed. Surely, you made a good impression on one of them. You would only learn the outcome in the morning.

The sound of footsteps startled you. You whirl around, frightened.

“Sorry,” drawls the man. “Didn’t realize someone was already here.”

“Think nothing of it.” You afford him a polite smile and turn back around.

Much to your surprise, the man doesn’t leave. Instead, you see him in the corner of your eye, making his way over to the opposite side of the veranda. You cannot help but gawk. He was … _gorgeous_.

Long, black hair tied back with a leather cord. He wears a white button-down that has seen better days and a brown coat. His skin is tan and glows in the moonlight.

The man catches you staring, his plush lips forming a smirk. You look away fast, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“Forgive me,” you say. “But … have we met before? It’s just … you seem so familiar. Perhaps we were introduced inside?”

His grin broadens and it takes the very breath from your lungs. He is living beauty. Never before had you met a man who possessed such a face, which may as well have been carved by angels.

“Those popinjays so boring you forgot who you’ve met and who you haven’t?”

His face might’ve been beautiful, but his words were crude. No man ofSociety would speak in such a way to a lady like yourself.

Blushing, you turn away. “Please excuse me, I’m needed inside—”

“I was joking,” says the man. “Meant no offense.”

Again, you force a smile, but say nothing. You try again to leave, but he calls out once more.

“Wait.” The man is closer, now, curiosity etched into his brow. “Never seen you around before. Are you new?”

“Quite.”

He grunts as if to say _that explains it_. There is a strange glint in his gaze as he stares. He’s … _amused_?

Frowning, you ask, “What?”

He looks too pleased that you asked. “Never seen a lady so beautiful. You are the prime article tonight.”

You turn your head, hiding from his gaze. That was _wildly_ inappropriate, this whole interaction was!

He speaks, “What’s your name?”

You’re not sure why, but you give it to him.

He repeats it back, and you shiver. Never before has your name sounded so … so _sinful_. He took your hand and kissed your knuckles. The sensation was dulled through the fabric of the gloves, and for the moment, you hated them.

A new, unwelcome curiosity overtook you. You wondered what his lips would’ve felt like on your skin. Were they as soft as they looked? His hands were so big compared to yours, how would it feel to have them touch your cheek?

“What may I call you, sir?”

He blinks, taken aback by something you said. “I’m … no one important.”

“I doubt that.” You toy with the tips of your gloves. “There is importance and value in us all. You strike me as a fine gentleman.”

“Not a gentleman.”

His answer piques your curiosity. There’s something about this man that compels you—from his rough manner of speaking, to the wild, untamed beauty he possesses. In this moment, you can understand Pandora’s temptation. He is a beast dressed in man’s clothes. Heathcliff in the flesh.

A raucous roar from inside breaks your train of thought. You’re immediately brought back to the issue at hand. Alone with a strange man. “Pardon me, I must be going.”

You got back home in the wee hours of the morning. Mama was satisfied with the way things went. She went on and on about how you were the prettiest girl there and would no doubt acquire more callers than any other young lady.

“Especially,” said Mama, “That Eliza Hedgepeth.”

“Mama!”

“What? This is the girl’s third season. She has been on the market for quite some time, all the eligible young men have had their fill of her. You, my darling, are new and exciting. Especially to that Mr … Aston, was it?”

“Emerson.”

“Yes! Mr. Emerson, oh he was impressed by you, was he not? Not two dances but _three_! I didn’t see him dance with anyone else that much.”

You bite your tongue. Eliza may very well be the only friend you’ve got in this place. She’s not much of one, but she’s what the Lord blessed you with. Laughing at her expense seemed wrong.

Your mind wandered back to your mysterious Heathcliff.

_Who was he?_

At first glance, he could’ve passed for one of the gentlemen at the party, but he had an air about him … one too unrefined and fierce for the world of High Society. It intrigued you, even now.

_Was he one of the help?_

_A poor relation?_

_Had he crashed the party?_

Father, who had been dozing off and on, took one sleepy look at you and said, “Where is your bracelet?”

“It’s right he—” Your sentence dies in your throat. You lift your wrist to the window for better light, but what you see is no illusion. “But, it was right here!”

“It’s missing?” asks Mama.

“How is this possible?” Panic rises in your chest. “I just saw it. It was on my wrist the whole night, I know it!”

“Did you drop it?”

“I don’t know!” You felt around the automobile but the diamond bracelet was nowhere to be found. “I never even noticed it was gone.”

“We will send a message out to Mrs. Woodson in the morning, perhaps one of her servants will find it.”

You and Eliza walked arm-in-arm through the bustling streets of Santa Carla. _Walking_ , Eliza had said, _was the best exercise a woman could get._ So, she elected to take you around town herself. You admired shops upon shops, lining the streets, vendors calling out to you to sell their wares, gentlemen tipping their hats to you.

“What’s that over there?” you asked.

“The boardwalk. It’s new, hardly three years old. It provides great entertainment for the masses. I should take you some time, you would enjoy it.”

The two of you continued on your way until you wound up on the beach, walking along the shoreline. The fresh, salty air was divine.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something, Eliza.” She hums, basking in the sea air, and you continue, “There was a gentleman I met the other evening at Mrs. Woodson’s, but I did not catch his name. I was wondering if you might know it?”

“Describe him for me.”

“Well, he was tall. A great deal taller than most. Long, black hair. Tan skin. Wore a brown coat.”

Eliza stopped abruptly. She grabbed ahold of your hand so tightly that her knuckles turned white. “Tell me you did nothing improper.”

“What?”

“The man you are describing is no gentleman at all. He is one of the kind I warned you about. _The_ _grifters_.”

You swallow hard. No wonder he’d seemed so familiar. You saw him on your first night in town. He’d been dressed differently, then. When you saw him at the party, he’d cleaned up. Now you realize, far too late, what damage to your honor it would’ve been to be _seen_ with him.

“What was he doing at the party?”

“Thieving, most likely. He belongs to a gang notorious for stealing jewelry and wallets. A ball is a perfect place for that.”

Your mind flashed to your bracelet, which was still missing. And you … you had been holding hands with this Heathcliff. It had been brief, barely enough time to warrant a second thought, but … Would he have done such a thing?

“Aren’t there _precautions_ against this kind of thing?”

“Certainly, but it’s a matter of catching them. They always find a way inside and it’s rare they let themselves be seen by anyone long enough to report them. They may as well be ghosts.” Eliza takes your hands in hers. “If you should see him again, walk the other way. They are no good. They have been known to steal into the most chaste of women’s underwear drawers. I would hate for that to be you.”

“I swear to you I’d never let him get that far.” Satisfied with your answer, you began walking again. “You wouldn’t by chance know his name, would you?”

“No, no I do not.”

You swore you saw him that night.

There was a great storm. You woke up in the middle of it after a particularly bright flash of lightning. Thunder followed soon after, loud enough that it shook the whole house.

You sat bolt upright and found your window latch had come undone. The panes were flapping like mad, stirring up a racket. You rushed out of bed and closed the latch. The floor was soaked from the rain, your nightgown damp from the tussle with the window.

Lightning streaked across the sky, so bright that it almost looked like daytime. That was when you saw him—or, thought you saw him.

Heathcliff, sitting atop his horse. The was a ghostly figure, dressed in all black, one hand on the horse’s reigns the other on his hat. He rode through the street at top speed. as if the storm didn’t bother him.

Darkness overtook the night once more. When the next strike of lightning flashed, he was gone. Perhaps you imagined him.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

Another night, another ball.

This one was a public ball held in Santa Carla’s new resort after the old one sunk not four years ago. It had been all decked out, crystals and beautiful seashells dripping from the ceiling. A string quartet played somewhere beyond the crowd of dancers.

Almost as soon as you entered did Alfred Emerson come to your side. He bowed, giving you a boyish smile. “Miss. May I have this dance?”

“You may.”

Alfred took you by the hand and lead you out onto the dance floor. He was everything a young man ought to be: charming, wealthy, even-tempered. He’d already called on you once after the first ball and made his intentions known.

Mama was, of course, ecstatic, but no proposal had been made yet. (Though, she was adamant that it was only a matter of time.)

After the dance finished, Alfred beseeched you for the next. And the one after that. When you finally admitted that you needed a rest, he was understanding and lead you off to the side where the two of you talked more. He even fetched you a glass of punch.

Alfred was a kind man, but he could be … stifling. You caught your break when he spotted an acquaintance, allowing you to slip away unnoticed. You found your way onto the veranda, which opened up into a lush garden.

Stepping off the stone patio, you followed the winding, cobblestone path deeper into the garden and found yourself in a labyrinth. The flowers were just coming into bloom, adding faint pops of color to the green.

You wandered through the path, going deeper and deeper into the labyrinth until you could no longer hear the party. The only sound was the sweet singing of birds and the distant crashing of ocean waves.

Soon enough, you made it to the center. A secret garden.

There were stone benches and tall statues guarding the four corners of the area. Vivid, purple lobelias swayed in the breeze, filling the air with their sweet scent.

You took a seat on the bench and sighed. Here, you could be at peace. 

A twig snapped and you whirled around. You couldn’t get privacy anywhere, could you?

You half expected it to be Alfred. You wouldn’t put it past him to follow you out here. But … it wasn’t him.

Half hidden by the greenery stood Heathcliff.

He’d dressed in a similar outfit—if not the same—as the ball prior. The only difference was this time his hair had come undone from it’s bindings and cascaded down his shoulders in inky black waves.

Heathcliff was just as startled to see you, startled expression mirroring your own, though it soon morphed into that of amusement.

He bows mockingly. “Miss.”

For one moment, you forgot every warning Eliza and the others had drilled in your head. You were happy to see him again, to know he was real and not some figment of your imagination. 

But, then you remembered. You leap to your feet, looking everywhere but directly at him. “I must be going.”

“So soon?”

“I cannot be caught alone with you, people will talk—” You attempt to move around him, but he stands in your way, catching you by the wrist. “Please move.”

“There’s no one around,” he pacifies. “No one comes here.”

You glare. “What is it you want from me? More of my jewelry?” At this, he stiffens. You press on, “I know who you are—rather, what you are.”

His brows twitch. “You do?”

“A no-good rouge,” you state. “I’m a good girl, I tell you. I intend to marry a gentleman and I won’t let you ruin that. I won’t have you insulting my honor.”

“I never offered.”

You blink. “What?”

“I never offered,” he said, “to insult your honor. Presumptuous of you to think that way.” The smallest of smirks finds home on his lips. “Though, it’s dangerous for a lady such as yourself to be all alone out here. Waiting on someone?”

“No.”

“No?” he echoes. “Not even the boy who’s been mooning over you all night?”

Confused, you frown. And then it hits you, far too late, who he’s talking about. Albert. But how did he know?

But the man goes on, smirking, “Or maybe … you were waiting on me.”

You scoff. “Now, why would I do that?” You tear away from him, putting a sizable distance between you. “I don’t know a thing about you!”

“You can be attracted to someone without knowing a thing about them.”

You laugh, “And you say _I’m_ presumptuous.” You begin to walk, and Heathcliff matches you step for step. “What is your name?”

He chuckled and your heart skips a beat. “Why do you wanna know?”

“Curiosity,” you quip. “I asked—”

“You asked after me?” His grin broadened. “I’m happy to know you think of me.”

“I only meant—”

The two of you stop, inches away from one another. He takes you by the hand kisses your knuckles. “Dwayne. You can call me Dwayne.”

Butterflies swarm your stomach. 

“ _Dwayne_ ,” you breathe. The name weighed heavy on you. Be it his real name or not, it was rather intimate to have something to call him. “A pleasure.”

He grunts in reply and releases your hand. You could’ve _sworn_ he was gazing at your lips. He reached out and you held your breath, but he did nothing untoward.

His calloused fingers brushed the white rose you wore on your dress, pinned betwixt your breasts.

“Lovely.”

You met his gaze. A low, burning heat filled your belly. Two, beautiful black eyes that shine like the night sky.

Unladylike thoughts crept into your mind, of what his lips would feel like against yours. Of him holding you close. Of your hands touching with nothing in between them.

Blushing, you turn away. This man was no good. He would only bring you to ruin. You had a respectable gentleman waiting for you inside the resort. A man who wanted to make an honest woman out of you and provide for you.

And yet, Dwayne intrigued you. He made you feel more excitement than any other proper gentleman had. He made you yearn for … something more. Something you couldn’t name but you could feel in your bones.

You pluck the rose from your bodice. “Have it.”

Hesitantly, Dwayne accepted the rose. His fingers brushing yours, lingering longer than necessary, before pulling away. It was then you realized that he did not have a pocket to put the rose in. You felt foolish.

Dwayne noted the same thing, but instead of giving it back or tossing the rose, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife. Maybe you should’ve been scared, but that thought didn’t occur to you until much later. Instinctually, you knew he wouldn’t harm you.

He pressed the knife against his dress shirt and tore it. You gasped—confused and slightly scandalized by the act. Dwayne made a slit in the fabric, not more than two inches long, then tucked the knife back in his pocket.

Dwayne slid the rose into the tear. “Not the first time a lady has given me her flower.”

You purse your lips, fighting a grin. “You’re … terrible.”

He chuckled. When he laughed, his entire face lit up, and his smile— _oh, his smile_ —was the most beautiful thing on God’s green Earth.

Dwayne leaned forward and tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. “You’re beautiful.”

You swallow hard. Try as you might, it’s difficult to focus on anything other than his mouth. His lovely, pleasant mouth… Which was so close to yours… If either of you so much as leaned in…

Dwayne sighed and stepped back, removing himself from you. You wouldn’t admit how much that hurt. Not that you had been expecting something from him.

“If you go back now, you won’t be caught.” Dwayne pointed through the hedges opening towards, where you assumed, the resort was. “Use the back entrance.”

Somewhere in the distance, the clock tower chimed. It was almost eleven o’clock! Somehow, a half-an-hour in Dwayne’s presence had flown by. If Alfred wasn’t missing you then your Mama was. Oh, you were in for it now!

Dwayne nodded. “Until we meet again, Miss L/N.”

You knew the right thing to do was run. You’re surprised no one had come out looking for you yet, and you certainly didn’t want them to find you here. But, you couldn’t move. No, you didn’t want to move.

The yearning inside of you reached its breaking point and you acted without thinking. You grabbed Dwayne by the lapels before he could get away. And, with a strength you didn’t know you possessed, you pulled him down and kissed him.


	2. Chapter 2

You’re not sure you’d ever seen your mother more excited in your life. She paced back and forth in a flurry while the maid styled your hair.

“A match made—before the season let out!” She took you by the hands and squeezed. “I knew you had it in you, my darling. You couldn’t be so pretty for nothing! Alfred Emerson, the richest man in town.”

“Yes,” you murmured, “he’s a fine gentleman.”

“And handsome,” she adds. “And rich. All the things a young lady ought to want.”

She’s right. There’s no debating it. Alfred Emerson is everything a young lady should want. He’s rich, made money through his family’s oil rig and owned a large amount of land just outside of Santa Carla. And he’s charming, with boyish good looks and beautiful blue eyes…

So what was holding you back?

Perhaps it was because his eyes weren’t black like the night sky, or that his hair didn’t fall past his shoulders in dark waves. Perhaps it was because he didn’t have the air of an untamed beast masquerading as a gentleman. Or, perhaps, it was because you hadn’t kissed him.

It was a stupid mistake, a rash action on your end resulting in embarrassment.

_You grabbed him by the lapels and kissed him. After the fact, you were astounded his lips were cold, not warm like you imagined. Though, in the moment, all you felt were the butterflies kicking up a storm in your stomach._

_When you realized what you were doing, you released him. Hands trembling, you touched your lips. You just_ kissed _him—a man you hadn’t known the name of until moments before. A man known to ruin young hopeful ladies such as yourself._

_He’d looked down at you with a keen in his eye—the kind that held a lecherous promise—but you turned and ran. You didn’t stop when he called out for you. You didn’t stop until you were safely inside the resort._

No one knew of what transpired—especially not Eliza. Instead, you played out the rest of the night as you should’ve in the first place—a reserved young lady with the intention of marrying.

The next day, Alfred Emerson came to your home and proposed. You were in no position to deny him, not for street scum. Not for the most gorgeous man in the world.

Tonight, there was a dinner at the Hedgepeth’s. It was a private affair, invitation only. And at the same time, there were five other dinners across town. The likelihood of running into Dwayne was slim. (Though, a small part of you held out hope.)

“Are you all right, my dear?”

You hum, smiling at Alfred. “Yes. My head is elsewhere these days.”

The boy blushes, “I know the feeling.”

Do you, you nearly find yourself asking. Was he yearning for your touch like you yearned for another. Was he reminiscing on all the times your skin had touched accidentally? Did he lay awake at night, tormented by the thoughts of what he should’ve done like you did when thinking of every encounter with Dwayne. No, you didn’t doubt it. Alfred was sweet, but he was still a man. You almost felt guilty, accepting him like this when your affections belonged to another. It wasn’t right … but it was the way things had to be.

Tentatively, Alfred reached out and laid his hand on your own. “It’s not long now, we’ll be married.”

“Yes.”

When you saw him like this, alone in the pale moonlight, you could almost convince yourself you could love him.

But his eyes were blue, not brown; and, while his hair was dark, it wasn’t dark enough, nor did it flow down his back in beautiful waves.

“We should get you inside,” said Alfred, squeezing your hand. “I would hate myself if you caught a chill on my account.”

You were tired. The maid had taken you out of your clothes and combed out your hair before Mama shooed her out. You had a big day tomorrow—a chaperoned date with Alfred Emerson. You couldn’t be seen looking the slightest bit tired.

You washed your face clean when a movement outside your window caught your eye. You inched closer, opening the latch. Nothing. The yard below was empty. Perhaps it was a bird or a stray dog.

You were about to shut the window when a hand shot out to stop it. A scream bubbles up in your throat but the hand was quick and covered your mouth before it could escape.

 _Dwayne_.

You stated with wide eyes. He did not wear his usual attire of dress shirt and coat. Tonight, he wore a loose-fitting black shirt, the ties undone enough to reveal the top of his chest.

“Don’t scream,” he whispers. “You don’t wanna be caught, do you?”

He waited, and when he was sure you weren’t going to shout, let his hand slip away. “What do you think you’re doing here?”

“May I come in.”

“No, you may not!” you say firmly. “It’s late and I won’t be caught in such compromising dress with a man I do not know.”

Dwayne raises an eyebrow. It’s then you realize you’d been caught in your nightgown regardless and yelp. You grab the nearest blanket and wrap it around your body.

“You have to leave.”

“I can’t.”

You scoffed, “And why is that?”

“I don’t want to.” He leans against the window, appraising your scantly clad form. You hate how he always stirs such excitement inside of you. “I heard you’re engaged.”

For some reason, your heart sinks. “Yes. To a Mr. Emerson.”

“I know him.” His smile faded into something more solemn. “Has he told you what he does for a living? What he really does.”

You shrug. “He’s an oil tycoon.”

Dwayne pauses. He opens his mouth to say something, then sighs. “You’ll learn soon enough.”

You don’t like his tone. It’s resigned, almost spiteful. You wouldn’t dare take it as jealousy. No, it’s something different entirely …You edge closer, lowering your guard. Here and now, at this moment, he doesn’t seem as wild as he once did. He seems like … a man.

“Why are you here, Dwayne?” You tighten your shawl around you, the chilly spring breeze nipping at your skin.

Dwayne’s expression softens. “Does the moon need a reason to chase the sun?”

Your breath hitched. “What … What do you want from me? What is it you think I can give you?”

“I want nothing you don’t already possess.”

“Money? Jewels?” You storm off to your boudoir and grab a handful of the jewelry laying there. “Take them. Leave me be, please.” Dwayne’s silence kills you. “I’m engaged to a good man.”

He pushes your outstretched hand back. “I don’t want your money.”

“Then what do you want?”

His gaze drops to your lips and you swear your heart stops.

You hate yourself for wanting … whatever it was this was. You didn’t know the man, and what you did know spoke volumes to his character. He’s a thief and a liar.

 _Filth_.

_A grifter._

The jewels clatter to the floor, hands too weak to hold them any longer. He doesn’t flinch, focus unwavering. You inch closer, unable to resist his pull. “What _do_ you want, Dwayne?”

His tongue darts out, wetting his lips; however, before he can answer, your attention is drawn away by the patter of footsteps.

You whip around, seeing a candle’s light coming closer and closer. Dread shoots through you. “You must leave at once!”

“But—!”

You lightly push his chest. “ _Go_.”

“Y/N—“

“Hide in the garden, I’ll be down in a moment, please! They can’t catch you here.” You turn back around to gauge how far they are, but when you look back, Dwayne is gone.

You peer over the edge—there’s no way he could vanish like that without making a sound! But he’s not in the tree, nor on the ground below. It’s like he hadn’t been there at all.

The door opens, and Mama peeks around the wood. “Is everything all right, dear?”

You push off the window, hiding the jewelry with your skirts. “Perfectly.”

She smiles awkwardly. “I thought I heard voices?”

“No. No voices.” You gesture vaguely towards the window. “A tree limb bumped my window. It frightened me, maybe you heard me. Sorry to wake you.”

“I wasn’t asleep yet.” She glanced between you and the window, then said, “Get some rest, my sweet. You have a big day tomorrow.”

You grimace, and she’s gone.

You wait until you hear her footsteps completely receded before tiptoeing out the door. You make sure to be as quiet as possible and creep out the kitchen door, exiting into the backyard.

It’d pitch black out. You can’t see three feet in front of your nose, let alone where Dwayne is. If he was even out here in the first place. You wouldn’t be surprised if all these sordid thoughts had brought on a bought of Hysteria.

The thin shawl is barely enough to warm your arms. Your bare feet sink into the dirt, mud catching the hem of your nightgown. You would need to hide it—or burn it, lest one of the servants snitched.

Perhaps it was foolish of you to think he’d stay—or to ask him in the first place. Hysteria, you decided, was the cause of your irrational decisions. You cup your head, groaning. What you needed was a good night’s sleep. You could deal with this development in the morning.

“Leaving so soon?”

Dwayne appears out of nowhere, steadying you. Had he been there the whole time? He didn’t make a sound—not in his approach, nor wherever he’d been hiding. You suppose that’s a good thing, considering the circumstances.

“I…” He cups your face. “I don’t know what I’m doing out here.” Your eyes flutter shut, the feeling of skin-on-skin stirring something within you. “I _shouldn’t_ be out here.”

It sounds more like you’re trying to convince yourself than him.

Dwayne hummed, stroking your cheekbone. “You _can_ leave.”

The opportunity is there. He spoke it into existence. You can leave. Three simple words, something you knew you needed to take advantage of. It was a sign from the universe: it wasn’t too late. You could get out of this unscathed.

You could leave. You _should_ leave.

“I can’t.”

His touch migrates to the back of your head, fingers weaving through your unbound strands of hair. “No?”

Your voice catches in your throat. Your mind flashes back to the other evening. _The_ _kiss_. Oh, Lord, if he kissed you again you’re sure you’d _die_ —die for your guilty pleasure.

“No,” you breathe. “Not until I know…”

One of you moves. In the thick of it all, you can’t tell if it’s you or him, or both, but you’re _kissing_.

It’s is nothing like the first one—not stiff or chaste; it’s all consuming. Your lips move together with fervor. It’s like he’s trying to devour you whole, and you would do nothing to stop him. All self-restraint melted away, leaving only _want_.

Dwayne leads you back and presses you up against the tree. You think you might collapse at any moment. Tentatively, you reach up and touch his cheek, feeling the stubble-studded flesh. He’s not smooth or polished like a gentleman should be, he’s a beast and you love it.

Dwayne pulls away, lavishing your jawline with lascivious kisses. They start at the base of your ear before wandering down onto your neck, teasing the sensitive skin. You gasp, gripping his shoulders. He nips your flesh lightly.

“ _Dwayne_.”

“Keep your voice down,” he teased, “Don’t want us getting caught, do you?”

You whine. Logically, you know he’s right. This is wrong— _oh,_ _so_ _wrong_. You’re _engaged_! Your husband should be the only man to ever touch you like this, but the way his hand creeps up your thigh makes you lose all rational thought.

The nightgown bunches around your waist, revealing your bare legs to the cool air. If one of the maids—or, heaven forbid, your parents—so much as _glance_ out the window they would see.

Dwayne toyed with the edge of your undergarment, gaze finding yours. “If I go any further, you know what will happen?”

You did, in a way. If you went any farther with this man (who wasn’t your husband), you’d be damned.

And yet what those worried mamas and strict pastors never told you was that it felt so good. They never told you it would transform you into an inferno, nor that you would crave _more_.

You were at a crossroads. If you continued and anyone found out, Albert Emerson would break off the engagement and your reputation would be forever polluted. Your only hope would be to marry someone old, someone horrible, who would no doubt do worse things to you. Or, you could find work in a whorehouse, as they would be the only one to take you in.

But if you said no, if you made him stop, you would be left with what might’ve been. You’d never know how the raging fire would grow, and you’d never know Dwayne.

“It doesn’t have to hurt.” Dwayne’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I can make it feel good.”

He brought you into another kiss and the two of you sink onto the ground, kneeling. Your bodies swayed together, your hands trembling as you did not know whether you should touch him.

“Lay back for me,” Dwayne murmured.

He helped guild you so you were lying comfortably under the tree. He gave you a single peck on the lips before vanishing from your line of sight. You did not follow him.

Dwayne removed your underwear and you inhale sharply, bracing for a pain that … never comes. Instead, you feel something wet swipe across your womanhood. You arch off the ground with a gasp, but Dwayne catches your hips and holds you firm.

Propping yourself up, not without struggle, you find Dwayne with his head between your legs. He’s licking your—

“What are you doing?” you keen, “This isn’t … _ah_ … ‘s not right.”

Dwayne met your gaze and took a long, slow lick of your cunt. You squeaked, thighs squeezing his head. Dwayne splayed his hand along your abdomen and pushed you down with surprising force.

“You need to keep quiet. You wouldn’t want to wake anyone, would you?”

His voice … God, his voice! It sent strangely pleasant vibrations through your womanhood.

“Yes, yes, you’re right. I’m sorry.”

Smugly, Dwayne smirks, before returning to his ministrations.

The coil in your gut wound tighter and tighter until you were shaking. Something was building up inside of you. You clawed at the dirt with one hand, the other finding its way into his hair.

“ _Dwa_ … Dwayne, something’s happening! Stop, something’s ha— _ah_!”

He worked his tongue faster against you and the feeling inside of you burst. You arched off the ground, lips parted in a silent cry. The feeling was unlike anything you’d ever experienced. Your whole body was wracked with shudders, shaking, and you could not catch your breath.

Dwayne sat up, eyes filled with hunger. His gaze roamed your body, and you stared back through half-lidded eyes. Never in your life had you felt so good. You were relaxed, your body limp from the adrenaline high, yet at the same time you tense in anticipation.

He drew you into a kiss. Your taste lingered on his tongue and you cringed away, but the pleasure it wrought was enough to tolerate it.

The hand on your inner thigh crept closer and closer towards your sensitive womanhood until he pushed a finger inside. You stiffened, the sensation strange although not entirely unpleasant.

“It’s okay,” he assured you. “Relax.”

 _Easier said than done_. Your whole body was tense. It was obvious he had more experience than you when it came to this kind of thing.

“It’ll get better.” Dwayne kissed you once, then kissed your forehead. “I’ll make you feel good.”

A second finger prodded your entrance. You grimaced as he worked it in, grabbing his arm. Dwayne slowed his ministrations, watching you carefully. His arm flexed against your hold. It was lewd, feeling his arm move and knowing what he was doing.

“You’ll be expected to do this on your wedding night,” he murmurs. “But don’t expect him to be kind about it.”

“N-No?”

“Not every man alive finds pleasure in giving pleasure.” He scissored his fingers inside you, stretching against your walls. You made a strange keening noise. “Not every man knows about this, either.”

He tapped his thumb against an area just above your entrance and you jolted. Dwayne’s face split into a wide grin and he pressed his thumb fully against the spot, rolling it in circles.

“Ah! _Dwayne_!”

Dwayne groaned, pumping into you faster. “Love it when you say my name.”

The combination of his fingers moving inside of you and whatever he was touching threw you into a tizzy. The feeling from before began to build again, building and building until you felt like you would burst like before, only this time it was amplified.

Heat shot through your veins. Sweat beaded along your hairline, the cool spring air chilling your feverish flesh. You clawed at his shirt, burying your face in his neck.

“Don’t fight it,” he said, “Let go.”

The feeling came back, that you were suffocating and flying all at once. Tension broke and you shuddered, squeezing your eyes shut. Dwayne surged forward and captured your lips, swallowing your cries. He didn’t stop moving once you fell. He worked his fingers inside of you with vigor, until you were limp against him.

When he removed his fingers, you sigh in relief. You nuzzled closer, finding comfort in his cool skin. Dwayne kissed your forehead, whispering praises.

“You did good.”

“I always thought there was more,” you admit. “And that it would hurt.”

“Do you want more?”

“I…” You’d already come this far. You’d already allowed this man to defile your honor in the most … dirty ways possible. You were already ruined.

You nod.

Dwayne captures your chin. “Use your words.”

“Y-Yes, I would like more.”

“Good girl.” Dwayne crawls on top of you, slotting himself between your legs. The weight of his body against your own makes you burn. Oh, you’ll surely burn for this, but if being with this man condemns you to hell, then you’d rather go knowing you tasted heaven. “You’re beautiful.”

He kisses you, moving his lips against yours. Gently, he guides you to lay down once more, situating you comfortably in the dirt. He rolls his hips against yours and something hard nudges your core. You gasp, and he does it again.

Dwayne reaches between you and fiddles with the laces of his pants. You crane your neck, curiously, but he shields your view. “You don’t want to see it.”

“Why?”

“Trust me.” When he sees you not backing down, he sighs. “Do you have younger brothers?”

“No.” You frown. What an odd thing to bring up now of all times.

Dwayne furrows his brow. “Women can find it daunting, seeing it for the first time. On any man. Don’t wanna scare you.”

You pause, considering his words. A jolt of fear did shoot through you but you were more curious than anything.

“I’d rather see,” you say, “if you please. I don’t want to be ignorant on my wedding night.”

Instantly, you regret your choice of words. They leave a bitter taste in your mouth. However, if Dwayne was bothered, he didn’t show it.

He huffs reluctantly, but shifts so you may get a peek. Your eyes go wide.

“Told you so.”

“That …” your voice falters, “That is supposed to…?”

“Yes.”

You could find no comparison to describe what _it_ looked like. Although, you were reminded of the time when you were very young. Your closest neighbor had a daughter around your age, and the two of you would run amuck, starting mischief and being naughty, as all children did. One day, she’d snuck a book out of her house with anatomical pictures inside. The two of you poured over the book, laughing at the strange images, one of them being the caricature of a naked man.

But Dwayne’s looked nothing like that picture. His was long and girthy. The bulbous head was bright with arousal, with a bush of dark curls sitting at the base.

You look up at him, eyes bright. “May I … May I touch it?”

“If you’d like.”

Tentatively, you touch the appendage. The tip of it was wet. You pulled your hand back. “It’s hard.”

“Painfully,” he grits out.

“You’re in pain?”

He grimaced. “Of a kind.”

“Can I help?”

“Yes. Just lay down,” he tells you, resituating himself between your legs, “Relax. I’ll do everything.”

Easing onto your back, you watch him with curiously. He shifts his weight and the head of his cock kisses your entrance. He glances at your face before he moved, pushing inside.

“ _Ah_!”

It’s … uncomfortable, but there’s no pain. It’s not a blinding, tearing agony women whisper about. It’s a stretch, a low burn, that builds the deeper he goes. You cry out, fishing his shirt. You’ve never felt so full in your entire life.

Dwayne’s controlled expression morphs into ecstasy. He tips his head back, mouth agap. At that moment, you realize he is sin-incarnate. Beautiful. Tempting. He is the alluring devil, and you are his Eve.

Your gluttonous womanhood sucked him in, as deep as he could possibly go. The feeling of his skin against your overstimulated insides had you shaking. You scratched his back, whimpering.

When he is fully sheathed inside of you, he doesn’t move. He waits, bracing his arms on either side of your head. He trembles, but holds strong. You feel every shift of his muscles, every twitch of his cock.

“Tell me to move,” he grunts.

“ _Move_.”

Dwayne thrusts his hips, slowly rocking back and forth inside of you. The sensation is strange, but not unwelcome. You can’t help the tiny noises that escape you, you can’t filter them out. With every little touch, you lose a part of yourself to the sensations.

The pace gradually picked up, the lewd sound of skin-on-skin filling the yard. Your small noises grew in volume until you were all but wailing.

Dwayne covered your mouth with his palm. You made a noise of protest but he merely smirked.

“Someday, I’ll fuck you somewhere private. You’ll be able to scream all you want. You’ll let out all them pretty noises of your; but, right now, you’ve got to be quiet.” He kissed where your lips would be.

The promise of _someday_ made your toes curl—and your walls tightened around him. It didn’t go unnoticed.

Dwayne chuckled in disbelief. “Oh? You _like_ that?”

“Mhm.”

He slowly pulled out before snapping back in hard. “You wanna be with me again?”

“ _Mhm_.”

Dwayne lowered his face, lips against your ear. “You wanna be mine?”

“— _eeshe_!”

Dwayne shuddered, “What was that?”

He removed his hand but didn’t let it stray far. With tears in your eyes, you repeat, “Please!”

“Well then.” His voice hitched. “How can I say no to that?”

Dwayne’s well controlled pace begins to falter. He humps your cunt with vigor, member pulsing within you. Your sensitive womanhood spasms around him, cock abusing your tender insides until you’re crying tears of pleasure.

He attacked your neck with a series of rough kisses before biting down hard. You would’ve screamed, had it not been for his quick thinking. He slipped three fingers into your mouth, stifling your shout. The pain was gone in a flash, replaced with a tingling light-headedness that made you more susceptible to his ministrations.

Removing himself from your neck, Dwayne tossed his head back, eyes fluttering shut. The rhythm stutters to a halt. He crushed himself against you, pressing in as close as possible. Something cold and thick fills you. Your first instinct is to be repulsed, but the sensation evokes a strange pleasure. And the look on Dwayne’s face is too much to bear. Beautiful. Lost in ecstasy. He stays there for a moment, pressed in deep, before finally slipping out. You feel too empty with his absence. The connection between you is now nothing more than a memory, the ache lingering in your core.

Dwayne stroked your face tenderly, a strange look in your eye. He reluctantly pulled back and began fixing his clothes.

You lay in the dirty, chest heaving. An staggering onslaught of emotions overtook you all at once. Joy. Ecstasy. Longing. Sadness. Too much to handle. You didn’t want to think about anything right now; not the future and certainly not the consequences of your sins.

When Dwayne was finished, he came to your side and helped sit you up against the tree. You felt small in his arms. Vulnerable. He now knew more of you than any one else in the world. That frightened you, the power he now held over you. There was no going back. You knew that your heart now belonged to him wholly.

You ached when he touched you, and shattered when he looked at your lips. Here you were, in love with a man you could never have. In love with a man who would never want you back, not for anything other than your body.

The two of you rested together, saying nothing, gazing at the stars. You expected to heart the gentle thrum of his heart but you couldn’t hear anything above your own.

“This is it, isn’t it?” you whisper.

For the longest time, he doesn’t speak. He traced the spot where he bit you, touching you like you were the finest piece of china.

“No.” He kisses the spot, then licks it. “Not yet. Not by a mile.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Why would I lie?” He pulls away, craning his neck to meet your eyes. When you don’t speak, he sighs, “ _Y_ / _N_.”

“You’ve gotten what you want …” you muttered, “Taken my virtue. You’ve ruined me, and now you’ll leave me to deal with the repercussions.”

Dwayne chuckled at your words. His hand crept up your nightgown and squeezed your thigh.

“I didn’t ruin you, I made you _mine_.”


End file.
